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Cowl gave a sneering smile. “Right.”
Devine decided to attempt a draw to an inside straight. He pulled out his phone and laid it down in front of him. “I’ve spoken to Jennifer Stamos a couple times. Saw her at a bar, too.”
“Oh yeah? Why do I care?” Cowl didn’t even look at the phone.
Devine glanced down at it. “I heard you were mentoring her, like you were Sara.”
“I mentor dozens.”
“But they’re not all like Jennifer. They’re not all . . . sweet cheeks.”
Cowl now looked at the phone. “Maybe you are smart enough to work for me.”
“Maybe I am.”
“And maybe I need to think about this some more, rather than bring the hammer down, like I thought I was going to.”
“Maybe you should. Like you said, it’s delicate.” He paused and chose his next words carefully. “But then again, you can always just fire me.”
The man shook his head. “Friends close and enemies closer, Devine. That’s the way I do business. And thanks for confirming for me which one you are.”
He rose and walked away, leaving Devine to stare down at his phone and let out a tight, uncomfortable breath. Funny, when you’d been in a war and had killed others and been nearly killed yourself, you wouldn’t think a battle of words could stress you all that much. But getting fingered for a murder charge and spending the rest of your life in prison did give a man pause.
At least it does this man.
He rose and walked right through the palace, not making eye contact with anyone.
And outside, he ran right into Christian Chilton.
